


stolen

by chasingforeverandaday



Series: forest love, forest lass [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, F/M, Jon Snow Knows Nothing, and would really like some brain bleach thank you very much, but Jon is unfortunately too oblivious for his own good, the Hound tries to be a good murder dad, the plot bunnies are multiplying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-12 23:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21484435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingforeverandaday/pseuds/chasingforeverandaday
Summary: Arya Stark hasn't been seen in almost a day, and the wildlings had been discussing stealing her just the night before. Armed with the self-righteousness that only an overly-protective older brother can have, Jon Snow marches through Winterfell on a quest to save his baby sister's virtue before it's too late.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: forest love, forest lass [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1353406
Comments: 38
Kudos: 273





	stolen

**Author's Note:**

> So I think in the Gendrya group chat on tumblr we were talking about everyone finding out about Arya & Gendry after the battle of Winterfell. The plot bunnies attacked, and this is the result of me being unable to focus on any of my WIPs or projects for Gendrya Fest.   
Please let me know what you think in the comments below, I love hearing from readers.

Tormund Giantsbane was not a man prone to anxiety, so the expression on his face was doing very little to calm Jon as he stumbled his way around an explanation as to why he’d taken Jon aside in private the day after the dead had fallen. His sheepish, darting looks and inability to look Jon in the eye were quickly building a large pool of nervous energy in the pit of his stomach.

“...and then he told me that he’d heard from-”

Holding a hand up to stop the stream of babble, Jon sighed. “Tormund, please get to the point. I’d prefer to make it back to my room before collapsing of exhaustion.” If he could manage to eat a meal without winding up face down in his meat, he would consider that an accomplishment.

Tormund remained uncharacteristically silent, mouth opening and closing several times as he tried to figure out how to word this in a way that wouldn’t cause his Little Crow to lose his mind. Letting out a deep breath, he closed his eyes and simply forged forward. “So your sister, the little warrior, not the fire-kissed one. My men, might have been discussing her yesterday. They were saying how with the way she fought and how she killed the Night King, she must be a... “ There was no way that sentence could end in a fashion that wouldn’t cause Jon to explode. “...wildcat, and they were talking of stealing her so they could bed her themselves.”

“What.” Jon had paled dramatically, memories of his time with the wildlings beyond the Wall all rushing back. Their rough manners, their traditions and culture. “They were talking about stealing… Arya? My baby sister Arya?” Tiny, mischievous Arya with her trouble causing grin and her tendency to get underfoot. Her absolute disdain for all thoughts of men and marriage.

“Aye, the little lady who killed death. And, eh, Jon?” Looking back up at his friend, Jon saw the apology in his face and nearly fainted at his next words. “Several of them went to her rooms last night and she weren’t there.”

“No. No no no no no.”

“Aye uh, I haven’t found her yet, and I’m not sure if someone took her, but I know she weren’t with your other sister last night, so I don’t know where she might be. I haven’t found all my men neither, but I still don’t know who made it through the Long Night and who just found other, er, company last night.”

World turned on its head, Jon staggered back to lean against the wall behind him. Head in his hands, he took a moment to breathe in through his nose, trying to stifle the panic coursing through his blood. Steeling himself, he straightened his spine. “Where have you looked?”

And so the pair searched the keep high and low, for while Tormund knew she wasn’t anywhere to be found among the Wildling people, he’d merely asked the maids about Arya’s whereabouts in her own quarters, something Jon was sure to start rumors that would cause Sansa more consternation. The first place Jon checked was Arya’s rooms, but those looked like no one had set foot in them since the battle, her furniture still strewn everywhere from the invading wights. 

The kitchens brought nothing, only that Arya had come by for baskets of food each day before the battle, always enough for a few people, but that they hadn’t seen her since she took one last night for a large dinner. The cooks all asked after her, hoping the food they gave were to her tastes, especially the bowls of stew she’d insisted on grabbing.

According to the stablemaster, the princess’s horse was happily munching on hay in her stall, and hadn’t been ridden by Arya herself in weeks. She hadn’t been riding much, preferring to stay close to home. He said she’d stop in every few days to check in and see if he was in need of anything with the influx of new charges, but he assumed she’d done the same throughout the keep, as he saw her testing the new arrows outside the forge and sparring in the yards with many of the men.

Though he didn’t see Arya in the yards with her Needle, Jon did see Lady Brienne, who he did his best to avoid, as he knew she’d tell Sansa that he’d somehow lost their little sister. Tormund was less than willing to leave without speaking to her, but the appearance of the Kingslayer soured his mood once more as he continued on sullenly.

Jon was growing even more frantic now, the approaching evening meant they wouldn’t make it into the Godswood for a thorough search before night fell. He traced through the hiding places of young Arya Underfoot, and ran for the kennels, now far more desolate than when they were children. No Arya.

She wasn’t in the armory either, but they did find the Hound. Clegane looked just as morose as ever, snarl firm on his face when they strode in. Eyebrow raised, he looked them up and down before demanding, “What the fuck are you two doing?”

Exchanging a glance with Tormund, Jon decided to trust the man who’d had his back beyond the Wall, coarse as he may be. “Trying to find my sister.”

“The little bird’s up in her roost, ain’t she, giving orders and scowling at that queen of yours?”

“No, not Sansa, Arya.” Shaking with nerves, Jon began to pace as his voice rose, until he was nearly shouting into the shadows. “She’s been missing since last night. I’ve looked for her in the keep, the kitchens, the stables, kennels, even here, where all the weapons she could ever want are!” Gasping for breath, he doubled over, the sheer fatigue and utter dread overtaking his ability to remain upright.

Snorting, Clegane asked with far more sarcasm than was truly necessary, “Sounds like you’ve been fucking everywhere, but have you tried the bloody forge?” Realizing how stupid he’d been not to look there first, Jon took off, intent on his new goal. And even if he didn’t discover her there, surely Gendry would be able to help widen the search too, for those two had seemed to get along whenever he saw Arya in the forge.

Tormund and a loudly protesting Hound on his heels, Jon barged into the smithy, hoping to find Arya, or at the very least his friend, one of the few men he knew he could trust in this, only to be met with an empty, cold, and dark forge. Rather than seeing Gendry at the bellows or his anvil or Arya handling the weapons laid all around, there was no one, no fire blazing in the grate or bustling armorers running around. “Where is he?” Jon thought back to the last day, trying to remember whether or not he’d even seen Gendry alive after the dead fell, or if he’d in fact died amidst the chaos.

Clegane snorted. “The boy’s probably sleeping, doubt he did much of that in the weeks leading up to the battle. Slaved over those weapons so long I’m surprised he had enough energy to fight in the damn battle himself.”

“He was fierce, the boy was! Like he’d been possessed by some great warrior.” Tormund chuckled, mirth lighting his eyes for the first time since he’d come to Jon in an anxious panic, “He stood next to me the whole damn night, showed up on the front lines without any armor on either, the damn idiot.”

“He weren’t possessed by nothing, the fucker just found something worth living for.” Distracted from the conversation, Jon moved towards the back, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of someone, anyone. Clegane rolled his eyes, the persistence of the bastard easily getting on his nerves. “Snow, let the fucker sleep, he’s earned it. I’ll come get him later if you still haven’t found your sister-”

Barely paying the Hound any mind, Jon finally found the door he was looking for, the one that led into what had once been Mikken’s personal quarters. Pushing it open swiftly, he walked through, apology for waking the man already on his lips when he noticed that Gendry was not actually asleep at the moment. No, instead he seemed rather awake and quite preoccupied with the nude woman in his lap. “Shit, sorry Gendry.” Turning abruptly, he flushed, embarrassed to have caught him friend in such an indelicate state, not to mention seeing the woman he was with.

However, thinking back, the only woman Jon had ever seen Gendry actually talk to was… Whipping back around, he saw the very girl he’d been scouring Winterfell for, pale skin blushing bright red as she scurried through the small room wearing only a billowing, sooty shirt that very clearly wasn’t hers. “ARYA?” His wide-eyed sister looked very much like the little girl caught tossing food at her sister, a comparison that only made his confusion and anger even stronger.

“And now I’m dead,” the blacksmith muttered, himself only in a pair of trousers as he sat on the edge of the bed they’d been <strike>enjoying</strike> <strike>using</strike> laying on only seconds ago. 

Clegane peered through the doorway behind Jon, taking in the scene before him. “-yet. Fuck.” If seeing his half naked sister hadn’t shocked him, then the Hound wrenching him back out of the room and slamming the door surely did. Mouth agape, he stood frozen where the Hound had left him, only Tormund’s uproarious laughter for company as he tried to piece together how, precisely, he’d managed to get himself into this situation.


End file.
